


Amidst Eros and Phileo

by LittleStrider



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: ?????????????, Angst, Awkwardness, Casual, F/M, I don't plan on finishing this, I honestly don't know what else to say, Sexual Frustration, She/her pronouns, Unfinished, mentions sex and boners and stuff, semi nsfw??, y'know. just general friend talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleStrider/pseuds/LittleStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wow I uploaded this here before but I deleted it and I'm too lazy to write out a summary. </p><p>You move into a new apartment to find out that you're neighbor is quite familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Locked Out

My fingers tap against the steering wheel, almost frozen to the touch from the chilly winter air. This drive thru could not be any slower. All I want is food, that's it. White puffs of air swirl across the windshield, any moisture remaining now frostbitten. My thumb pushes into the radio's power button, then connecting the aux. If I'm waiting this long, I might as well enjoy myself.

_"Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier..."_

I allow myself to get lost in his voice, to the point where I'm not even listening about the game. I like Mark, he helps me when I feel down. Every crappy day brightens when I see his face, hear his voice. My feelings are clumped together, I don't know how to describe it.

A loud honk pulls me to reality; the car in front moves on, leaving me next in line.

"Here you go," a cheery high school student hands over the bag, which practically radiates a heavy heat. 

The scorching hot, greasy bag warms my fingers through the thick wool gloves covering them, "Thank you." I push the gas petal, wanting to get home as fast as possible. 

More puffs of white erupt from the exhaust pipes of cars around me. My face softens, after all, it's my favorite season. The low temperatures, white snow, holidays, what's not to love? 

I park my car, grabbing my backpack and the fast food bag on the way out. My stomach growls, the alluring of food dances across my face.  The crunching of snow brings a smile to my face, that is before I get to the number pad.

I forgot the combination at my parent's house.

A spark of panic surges through my body -- it's too late to drive back to get it. Okay, okay. This is fine, I just need to call the neighbor. Just have to explain that I'm moving in and forgot the pin code. I contemplate my options: call one of the neighbors, try to drive back to my parent's house, or sleep in my car. 

I move the hand not holding the food to the apartment call buttons. There we go, this should be it... "Hey, um, sorry if this is a bad time but I'm locked out. I'm moving into the apartment next to your's, and I forgot my code at my parent's house. Can you let me in, please?" My voice is masked with sleep, the dark sky making me drowsier by the minute.

There's a long silence through the intercom. When my ears adjust to the quiet, there's a faint breathing; it's too quiet to be oral, although it sounds like a mix of nasal breathing and a sigh. The white noise cuts off. 

The door handle does nothing when I jiggle it furiously. What selfish prick would leave someone out in the freezing cold at 11:14 PM? Great. Can't wait to spend the year living next to this soggy biscuit. I want to yell -- the night is dulling my emotions, leaving me too tired to fight back.

"I don't know who this is, but please. I just want to get home and lay in bed. I've had a long day packing and unpacking, I just want to sleep." I jiggle the handle harder, a sharp sigh hisses though my clasped teeth. Something inside me breaks. "Please don't make me sleep in the cold." The words slither through my mouth, each one forcing its way out.

Not a second later, a heavy beep fills my ear and the door handle unlocks.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I mumble, my legs carrying me to the elevator as fast as possible. The elevator button opens the doors quickly, thank God. I use the short pause of action as a chance to eat a few fries. The salty bliss warms my mouth, filling the emptiness in my stomach. I lean against wall, wishing I didn't have to move my legs for the rest of the night. The doors opens, leaving me to scamper down the hall.

The food bag is cooling down -- thankfully -- as its now being held by my teeth, giving me the freedom of both hands to search for the key. I find it in the back pocket, pressed slightly against my phone. The heated wool makes it harder to get it to fit, much less to open the door. I fumble with the key angrily, only for it to fall to the floor silently.

"Let me get that for you," a smooth voice fills the air. The person's voice is accompanied by a hand picking up the key and shifting it into the knob. My whole body is stiffened, I have no clue what I should do. 

I straighten my back, slowly shifting my view to the stranger -- my jaw unfastens , sending the bag of fries to the floor.

"Oh my God."

I feel like I'm on the Tower of Terror. I'm being pushed upwards at an extremely fast speed; my body pressing hard against a cushioned chair. I'm at an all time high, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I don't want this to end. I know it won't stay like this, but a small part of me believes that it will. Soon, all I'm left with is terror. 

What if my seat belt breaks? What if everything in my pockets fall out, forever broken at the slightest impact? What if? What if?

The windows of the tower open suddenly; I can see outside, people are acting so natural. They have no clue what any of us are feeling. I don't blame them -- I don't know what I'm feeling.   

I take a second look over the stranger in front of me. He has a long face with a nice jaw, peppered with facial scruff. A pair of glasses rests on his nose. Black waves of hair rise and crash over part of his forehead. A few mocha pigmented locks spring out across the top of his bangs, each one appearing a different hue from the light.

I swallow hard, it's him. 

"T-thank you," words fall out of my mouth. Mark Fischbach is standing in front of me. I drop onto my knees, my hands quickly grabbing the back. I scamper back to my feet. 

Mark reaches his hand out, "I'm Mark."

I stand in silence, confusion even. If I tell him that I'm a fan, will he think I'm stalking him? Maybe it's better to pretend. Pretend that I don't know him already. I place my hand against his.

I'm in the tower again, still staring out the window. Serenity washes over me, the view is nice. 

I'm floating now, totally weightless. My heart races quickly. What's going on?

"Y/N," I reply; my voice breaks slightly, creating a blush of red across my cheeks. I advert my eyes from his. "Thanks for letting me in. Sorry if I woke you up."

"Don't sweat it, I was wide awake," he smiles, allowing me to get a glimpse of his predominant canine teeth.

"I better get to bed -- long day, y'know?" I attempt to smile back but I can only assume that the tiredness masking my face makes me appear weird. 

Mark shifts his weight, his shoulder brushes against the wall, "Alright. If you ever need anything, I'm right next door."

"Thank you," My face is getting hotter by the minute.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

 

My heavily blanketed bed hugs my shape, finally giving my bones a rest. I've already put my food in the fridge, as I'm too exhausted to move more, and gotten my pajamas. I stare at the ceiling. 

Screams surround me and I'm pushed back down to my seat; my arms now gripped to the seat belt. Similar to those around me, I feel a scream rising in my throat. I can't tell what I'm feeling. Different emotions fill my head: fear, excitement, adrenaline.

I think over what happened today.

I finally understand what I feel.

_Love._


	2. Friendship Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N decides that she has to tell Mark that she knows who he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the dumb chapter title. I couldn't remember the originals. ://

I'm sitting on the floor, eating cold fries. My feet are hidden inside over sized pants, the dark houndstooth linen shields the skin from the freezing kitchen tiles. A sigh of relief breezes through my lips; I couldn't be happier that all of my things are already in here. 

I lazily move myself away from the fries and relocate to the window sill. Flakes of white powder down from the sky. Shivers run up my bare arms; maybe it's not such a good idea to wear a tank top when it's below freezing. There's not much I can do, my other clothes need to be washed. Speaking of which, I have no clue how to set up a washer and dryer. 

Silence leaves me alone with my thoughts, and I allow it to. I have to tell him. I can't lead him on this way. If I get close to him, he'll eventually find out and probably think I'm just a stalker, or that I'm trying to get his money. 

"Ugh!" I groan as loud as I can. I get back up, this time cleaning up the bag of fries, and forcing myself out the front door.

Oh God. What am I doing? I'm going to mess this up. I think I'm going to throw up. My legs are shaking, goosebumps raise up my arms and legs. I can't do it. I can't lose him. He's too important to me. Images rush through my head: his hair, the way his eyes examined me, the way he leaned against the wall. Senses tingle across my face; I can still smell his cologne, a mix of laundry detergent and musk. I can't do it -- but I have to.

I love him.

My fist sounds off a hard knock on his door, followed by a few soft knocks. Tension swarms my stomach, the only release is when he opens the door. He's wearing his typical red flannel and a simple pair of blue jeans. His hair is in a mess and his cheeks are flushed. By the looks of it, he was in the middle of recording.

"Is now a bad time?" Any hardness in my voice is now gone. He simply melts away all of my defenses. The thought of me interrupting one of his videos makes me sick. 

Mark rubs the back of his neck and darts his eyes over me, "Kind of, just doing some work -- is everything okay?" Dull pain infiltrates my organs and any attempt to make eye contact makes it worse. The concern in his voice echos in my ears.

"Yeah!" I reply a bit too loud. I can't do it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." The clock is ticking. "Sorry. Never mind, I got it." His eyebrows raise in confusion; I'm wasting his time. I'm a waste of his time.

"Are you sure?" He asks. His head is cocked, making his glasses slide slightly to the right.

I partially hug myself and force a light laugh, it hurts. "Yessiree Mr. Fi -- Mark!" The word 'Mark' comes out as a yell. I can't remember if he told me his last name, why would he? Forced giggles are sliding off of my tongue. "Alright, um," I start to inch back to my door, each word I say comes out at a faster speed, "I'll leave you to it!" I turn my back on him and turn the door knob. 

"Y/N," Mark's deep alluring voice snakes over to me, constricting my torso and piercing my heart.

I turn on one foot. "L-listen, Mark..." It's now or never. "I'm so honored to meet you. I love your videos and I'm a big fan. I'm sorry for interrupting you and then acting weird. I respect you so much, and I'm terrified of messing this up." I'm backing up again, ready to shut the door. "I should've told you last night but I didn't want you to think that I'm a stalker or over obsessed fangirl." My hand moves forward until the door is just barely cracked open. "I'll talk to you later -- if you want, of course."

I use my back to push the door close and lay on the cool floor. Minutes pass; I feel nothing.

_Knock. Knock._

I push myself off the floor and look through the peep hole. He cleans up pretty quickly, I guess. Although I wouldn't say he ever looks unclean, despite the fact that his face is still a shade of crimson. I stand in silence and think of what to do. Running away won't get me anywhere. I open the door slowly.

Mark is looking around in an awkward manner when I open up. "Hey," he says, a hint of worry peppers his voice.

"Hi."

"Can I come in?" he sticks his hands in his jean pockets; each knuckle juts out as he taps his thigh.

I itch the nape of my neck and swiftly lick my upper lip. Were they always so chapped? "Y-yeah, go ahead." I watch him walk past me, my eyes tracing his shoulders with every step. "Feel free to sit anywhere," I mutter. The fact that my idol is in my apartment makes me light headed, well that and the anxiety in my stomach that's multiplying by the very second. "Hey, um, can you take off your shoes please? Cleaning carpet is not my forte," I give a light laugh, hoping it'll lighten the mood.

Mark does as I say and then sits with his legs spread on the arm of the couch.

Something in my throat repeatedly pushes words out, "Are you okay? Your face is all red." A small voice in my head reminds me to let him talk.

"Oh, that. I did a hot sauce challenge earlier," he somehow says this casually, even though the hot sauce usually makes him very antsy. He shifts his weight and his leg starts bouncing. "Look, Y/N, I'm not angry at you, maybe just confused." He sighs, "You don't have anything to worry about. You seem like a nice person, and I think I can trust you."

_That may not be the best idea, Mark._

"Thank you, that means so much," my words come out as a whisper. "Are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good," he replies with a humble smile and gets off of the couch. "Well, this has been fun but I'm going to go and chug a bunch of milk."

He's standing closer to me now. "Hey," the butterflies swirl around my digestive system, "I seriously can't believe this is happening, it's such a dream of mine. C-can I hug you?" 

"Sure," he shrugs and pulls me into a hug. I'm at a loss of words. I hug him back hard. When we pull away, I take a look at his face.

The butterflies explode.


	3. Friends for Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark does his best to ensure you that you're really his friend.

"Thanks for inviting me over," Mark's eyes look soft, matching his creamy voice. 

I stab my bowl of noodles and smile, "Of course. Can't let all of this go to waste." It's been around three weeks since I've moved in, giving me plenty of time to make the apartment at least somewhat presentable. Most of the tension has cleared, now that I've told him that I'm a fan. I can wear my Markiplier logo shirt and pants around the house again.

"I've got to say, you're a pretty good cook," he compliments me. 

"I wouldn't really call boiling water and adding noodles 'cooking'," I laugh pettily. _Ugh, stupid Y/N! Accept the compliment!_ "T-t-thanks though."

Mark, who's mouth is currently full of pasta, winks and gives a thumbs up. 

I place my bowl on the coffee table, allowing me to push myself off of the small sectional couch. "Welp, I'm full enough to give bi-" I catch myself in the nick of time. "Do you need anything, since I'm up?"

"No, but thanks for asking. What were you going to say?" A wide grin forms on his face.

"W-what? I wasn't going to say anything else," I place my dish in the sink which gives me an excuse to hide my face from him.

"You sure about that?" His voice scares the crap out of me. Damn carpet, dulling his footsteps. "It sounded an awful lot like you were full enough to give birth to something." He's a foot or so away from me, but he comes closer to clean his own dish.

"No, I didn't -- and stop cleaning your dish, let me do it," I pout.

"Let me help," he retorts. I didn't take him for that much of a stubborn man, but I guess he is trying to help after all.

"Mar--Mark! Seriously, you're my guest," I can't give in. I can't let him think that I'm using him, or that I'm just some weak shell of a human being. 

He shifts his eyes away from me, pausing in thought, "You hate washing dishes, don't you?"

"Number one, yes. Number two, how did you know that?" I retort.

"Friends know friends," he gives a small laugh.

I suppress a squeak.

"There we go, I knew that'd get you to crack," Mark turns away and places his bowl in the dish washer. While doing so, he takes a few dishes out and moves them into different locations. "Now that we're friends, maybe I can teach you how to do dishes properly." Even though he's looking away, I can tell he's smirking.

His skin grazes mine as I pull his arm away, "M-M-Mark, please, I know you're trying to help but I can do it."

He loudly exhales through his nose and closes the dish washer. "Let's go to my place."

I drop the towel that I'm using to dry my hands. Holy shit. Ho-ly shit. "Hm?" My favorite person in the world did not just ask me to go to his place. I must be dead; I died and went to heaven. "Are you serious?"

"Yep," he grabs the towel off of the floor. He's in the middle of putting his shoes back on when the initial shock dulls down, allowing me to move. 

I follow him out into the hall, my heart beating faster with each step. Besides stopping to lock the door behind me, I only focus on him. When he opens the door, a myriad of senses flood my brain. The smell is odd and I can only describe it as home. The layout of the apartment is similar to my own, but the furnished room feels almost as if it's from another world.

"This is really nice," I croon. An abnormal sensation tingles down my spine. My anxiety is a snare drum being played by an over enthusiastic player, and yet I feel calm. I stick my thumbs into the waist line of my pants, not sure what to say.

Mark sharply turns and spreads out his arms, "This is it, Markiplier's house!" He titters at his own use of third person. Although he's chipper, his eyes still show worry. "I want to show you something."

"Alright," my voice slightly raises, confusion stuffing itself into my mouth. I walk behind him and then he shows me it. His recording room.

He scans my face and then sits in his recording chair. I force myself to look slightly away, fully aware that my face is probably the color of a strawberry. 

"Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier and I'm talking to Y/N!" He cheers. Amusement dances across his expression when he sees me jump at his voice.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"I'm trying to show that I'm not better than you," Mark stands back up and walks just inches away from me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I place a hand on my hip, using the other one to move hair out of my face.

"Y/N, you stutter every time you say my name," he retorts.

I open my mouth in objection, only to close it to think. There's no point in denying the truth. "I know..."

He grasps my wrists, "Y/N, don't be nervous. I don't want you to be scared of me every time we talk. We're friends, okay?"

I know what he's doing, he wants that question to soften me up. It's working. "Okay, yeah. We're friends," the corners of my mouth curl at the last two words. Friends. I'm friends with Mark Edward Fischbach. I'm stuck between conflict and euphoria.

Mark senses my thoughts. He pulls his phone out and starts a call, taking a second to put it on speaker. Each ring adds more suspense and by the last ring I feel light headed.

"Mark?"

I recognize the voice immediately.

"Hey Jack," Mark replies. His smile reflects his good intentions. 

"What's up? It's just about three AM 'ere," Jack's voice is littered with sleep. This isn't happening. Two of my favorite youtubers are not talking right in front of me.

Mark sucks his teeth, "Ah damn, sorry dude. I want to introduce you to my friend/neighbor, Y/N."

"H-hi! I'm a huge fan, Sean," the words come out as laughs, I'm hysteric. 

A sound emits from the speaker, probably Jack shifting in bed. "Nice to meetcha, Y/N!" There's that energy I'm used to. "I'm sure it took quite a lot 'a convincing for Mark to get you to be friends with him, uh?" He teases.

Mark begins to say something, but I cut him off, "Pretty much the opposite, actually! The first time I saw him I thought I was going to puke -- in a good way of course. I mean, like I was so happy and excited to see him," I babble on. Why did I say that?

Jack lets out a soothing laugh, "I'm glad to hear that." There's another shifting sound. 

"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to sleep," Mark says.

"That'd be nice," the Irish man replies, his voice content. "It's been nice meeting 'ya, Y/N."

"T-thank you so much!" I blurt out, "It's been an honor meeting you!"

"Ah, Mark -- by the way, I'll text 'ya with my flight info in the mornin'," Jack includes, "G'night!"

"Goodnight!" Mark and I say in unison. All noise from the phone falters to a stop.

Wait. Flight info? I better ask before I assume.

"Flight info?" I simply ask; hopefully my face doesn't look as warm as I feel.

Mark adjusts his glasses, "Yeah, he'll be visiting here for a week."

"Huh?!" I gasp. I knew it! Oh my God, I'm going to meet Jacksepticeye. Maybe. If he's okay with that.

"Yeah, he'll be staying here," he casually says, "you can come over when he's here if you want."

"I'd love to," A happy gasp slips through my teeth.

"Good," Mark pauses, "Mind if we take this into the living room? It's less cramped in there."

"Sure," I reply.

Once we're in the living room, I ask another question, "When'll Jack be here?"

"Tomorrow morning."

My heart jumps. What time is it? 8:12 pm. "Hey -- um -- thanks for having me over, you should probably get some sleep," I say.

"Alright," he walks with me to the door. "Do you maybe want to come with tomorrow?"

Holy crap. "Can I?"

"Mhm," he rocks on his heels while talking. 

"Yeah, I'd love to!" I squeeze my hands together in excitement. "I better get some sleep too; how will I ever sleep with you two in the same room?" I joke.

Mark grabs a piece of paper from the kitchen and starts writing. "The walls are thicker than you think," he winks and hands me the paper. "Here's my number, I'll text you in a couple hours with what time we need to go."

My hands shake as I send him a text reading 'booper dooper'. "I seriously can't thank you enough, Mark," I pull the front door open, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good luck to 'ya lassie!" Mark's mock Irish accent was a few steps away from average, I wonder if he's been practicing. 

I smile, "goodnight, Mark."

 

I lay in bed, watching one of Mark's Fran Bow videos. Although it's a horror game, Mark's voice helps me calm down enough to sleep. My eyes are half closed when I finally hear the vibration.

[Mark: Jack gets here at 9 am.]  
[Mark: Can you come over by 7:30ish?]

I rub my eyes and type out a reply.

[Y/N: Sure thing.]

I fall asleep with my phone pressed against my cheek, a smile on my face.


	4. Enter Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the day Jack arrives to stay with Mark for a while.

_♪ Something here seems fowl, something here just reeks of blood and suffering. Could it be these halls are echoing of death? We'll see. ♪_

My eyes fly open as my alarm starts repeating itself. I check my phone, 6:45 am. God, I'm tired. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and stare at my phone background for a few seconds. Oh crap. I have forty-five minutes to get ready. Anxiety pierces my stomach once more, I have to make a good impression on Sean.

I scamper out of bed and rush to the bathroom to start a shower. Oh my God, oh my God. Why didn't I pick out my clothes last night? 

"Gah!" The cold water hits my legs, leaving me no choice but to crank the heat and shiver. Alright alright alright. Just need to put in shampoo, then conditioner, and then shave.

I get out as fast as possible and brush my teeth. Okay, now just dry off, get dressed, and brush my hair. I contemplate going commando which would allow me to get to my room faster but I'm scared someone'll see me, even if the door is locked. I sigh, if only video game towel physics worked in real life.

I run into my room, grabbing the first bra and pair of underwear that I see. Sweatpants would be preferred in this weather but it's not very classy. Black jeans with a snug fit will do. As for a shirt, I don't really care, just a black tank and a sage military jacket. 

All that's left is to brush through my hair and then spray a bit of perfume. I throw open the door, only pausing for a second to grab my bag. 

_Knock, knock._

When Mark opens the door, he has one arm in a zip-up hoodie. "Ready to go?"

I nod eagerly. Ready doesn't even describe how I feel right now. I'm ready to do a cartwheel -- that is if I could actually do a cartwheel without falling flat on my ass. "Dude, I was born ready," I reassure.

"Let's go get my luscious lover," he wiggles his eyebrows like the tease he is. I giggle in reply, but there's a furious burning sensation in my heart. He called someone his lover. I mentally punch myself; he was joking -- I shouldn't be so jealous. 

"Let's," I curtsy and follow him through the hall. 

 

I slump into the airport chair with my legs hanging off of its arm. He should be here any minute. I let myself linger on each thought that pops into my head. There's a seat in between Mark and I. 

"He's on his way over here," Mark croons. "Are you doing alright?"

I swing my legs off of the chair, a loud sigh escaping from my mouth, "Yeah."

Mark begins to say something but it cut off.

"Top of the mornin' to ya laddies!" Jack's voice booms through the airport. I jump at the sound of his voice. While Mark casually gets up from his seat, I nearly fall over with excitement while getting up.

"Sean, this is Y/N," Mark says. Although I'm extremely glad to see Jack, I can't help but glance at Mark as often as possible.

"Great to meet you in person J-Jack -- uh, Sean!" I stutter my introduction. Stupid stupid stupid.

"Either is fine -- the pleasure is mine!" Jack grins back. His baby blues catch my attention, for some reason they make me energetic. His smile grows wider as he looks at Mark. Jack slightly hunches his back and shields his mouth with his hand, "If he's holdin' 'ya hostage tap my right shoulder blade five times," he playfully whispers in my ear, just loud enough for Mark to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, I'm all game for being cocky. "Oh Jack! Let me hug you!" I change my voice into a high pitched valley girl accent. And then he does it.

Oh wow. This is the definition of a good hug. He's squeezing tight without hurting me; this rates like an eleven on the sploosh scale.

Once the initial shock is over, I dramatically pull one arm out from the mighty grasp and tap his right shoulder, but only four times. I pull away first but I wish I could stay there forever.

"I said five times," Jack cocks his head.

I put my arms behind my back and rock on my feet, "I know, I just wanted to hug you," I wink.

Jack lunges towards me, "Gimme my hug back!" 

Pain and laughter erupt in my throat. "F-fuck! Stop stop stopstopstop!" Tickling is on its way to being one of my most hated things. My knees start to buckle under the agonizing torment of Jack's fingers -- don't take that out of context. "Uncle! Uncle!" My knees graze the rough carpet and I brace for impact. 

Mark pulls me up by my armpits before I can fully fall. "Alright children, time to go home." His grin shatters my cockiness. I stagger backwards, my hand flying through my hair as a nervous tick. 

"Aw, but Dad!" Jack drops his shoulders and picks up his suitcase. I follow behind him, although soon I'm shoulder to shoulder with him; Mark takes up Jack's other shoulder.

"So how long've you guys known each other?" Jack seems to bounce at every step. He's such a joyous man; just seeing him lightens my mood.

"Around three weeks," Mark replies.

The Irishman shoulders Mark with a perky look on his face.  "Moving a li'l fast aren't we?" Jack's head is turned away but he quickly pierces my gaze. Those eyes are a winter morning sky to where looking at it is bright enough to make you sneeze. I'm so used to seeing Mark's tranquil eyes and although they made me tense, it was from infatuation. Jack's eyes startle me in an entirely different way.

"Not at all," my voice cracks, I didn't want to say that. "I must be going through second puberty," I strain my voice to crack it as many times as possible while speaking; hopefully that'll distract them from what I said.

"Lucky! Maybe one day Jack'll hit puberty for the first time," Mark coos. 

"Speak for yourself, shorty!" Jack stands on his toes and lightly fists Mark's hair. 

Mark scurries to fix his hair and stands up straighter, "Don't talk to your father that way!"

Jack pouts and somehow leans on my while walking, "Mommy, isn't Daddy short?" He moves his thick eyebrows up and down.

Bitch, if anyone is calling Mark 'daddy', it's going to me. I'm kidding, of course. "Sorry, baby, you're pretty much the same height," I hush my voice -- are we talking too loud?

"Aw," Jack mumbles. We're back to the car finally. 

"You get shotgun, Jack," I open the door for him.

Jack straightens his back and grins, "How 'bout you sit in the back with me?" 

I scream on the inside. This is such a relief, he actually wants to be around me! "Okay," I reply nonchalantly. 

Mark takes Jack's bag and puts it in the trunk, "I'll be the chauffeur," he applies a thick British accent to his words.

"Man, you are on fire with these accents!" I laugh while getting into the car. Honestly, Mark sounds a lot better with his American accent; the other ones make him sound too harsh, not smooth enough like his regular voice. 

Mark starts the car and we begin the drive. There's silence at first, but it breaks when Jack hands me his phone. I stare at the screen, it's a new contact page. I glance at Jack, who simply replies with a nod. I nod back and insert my name and number. While giving the phone back, I hand him my phone as well and he does the same as I did.

My phone vibrates once I get it back.

[Jack: Nice phone background.]

My face burns, I forgot that my background was a picture of Mark and me. 

[Y/N: Shush.]

[Jack: Your secret's safe with me.]

[Jack: Just think of me as Jackaboy the wing man! ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧]


	5. Close Encounter

It's been a couple hours since we've been back at the complex with Jack. I generally went straight to my own apartment, not wanting to overstay my welcome. I'm laying on the couch right now messing around on the computer -- checking social medias and whatnot. 

What did Jack mean by my 'secret'? I mean, I obviously know what he meant but not what part of it. I'm not sure if he meant that my background is Mark and me, since that wouldn't really be that big of a deal. Everyone has a picture of them and their friend(s) -- right? Maybe he could tell that I love Mark, it's not that hard to tell. Hell, I'm pretty sure Mark knows I have a crush on him.

I sigh and scroll through tumblr, there's not much going on. I'm in the middle of reading some random posts when there's a knock on the door. It's Mark. His knock is soft, not energetic enough to be Jack; plus I don't know anyone else in the building.

"Coming," I say, stopping on the way to the door to check my face. Eh. Good enough.

Mark's face is shaded a deep red. He scratches his neck and fidgets with his glasses. "Sorry if this is a bad time -- a-and this is probably one of the weirdest things I've ever asked -- but um, can I use your shower?" 

Woah. Woahwoahwoah. He wants to use my shower? I hope he uses my towels. All of them. Mark scented towels. What if he --? I clench my fist in hopes that it'll get rid of my weird thoughts.

"It's just that, Jack used all of the hot water in mine," it's not until he starts talking that I realize that I didn't respond.

"Y-yeah, of course!" I smile. "Uh, should I leave for a bit and come back?" I shift my weight and bit my lip.

Mark shrugs, his face still bright red, "whichever works for you." My mind won't shut up -- nonononono don't think about that. Too late.

"Alr--" my voice gives out and I clear my throat, "Alright! Feel free to use the t-towels in there." 

"T-thanks," Mark walks past me and pauses, "Do you know if all the showers in the complex are the same?" 

"Probably," I reply, "Mind if I go hang with Jack?"

"If you want," Mark says, "thanks again."

I open the door behind me and nod, "Anytime." 

Jack answers the door the moment I knock, "She actually said n-- ?" He stops when he sees my face, "Hey!"

"Hey, can I come in?"

"Where's Mark?" Jack stares at me.

I cross my arms, "In my shower."

"Without you?" Jack widens his eyes before finally moving out of the way to let me in.

"Shut it," I stick my tongue out at him and go through the door. "How is it that you've only been here for four hours and you already used all the hot water?"

He smiles.

"Are you serious?" I sigh angrily.

"Mhm," he nods his head and the smile transforms into a shit-eating grin. He examines my sullen face and there's a sudden change of heart, "What? I had a lovely shower! A nice, warm shower!"

"And you couldn't've saved a little hot water for Mark -- or better yet, share it with him?" I raise an eyebrow. 

Jack spreads out on the couch and juts his chin up. "Small steps."

I push at Jack's legs to make room, but pause to look into his eyes, asking if it's okay. He complies, moving his legs on his own. "A girl can dream," I sigh and play footsie with him.

"'Ya still can; Mark'll be rubbin' up on one of your towels soon," he says playfully. He shifts his hand across his forehead to smooth any loose green hairs.

"Wait... That means..." I gasp. My finger presses against my lip as I make the most exaggerated surprised expression possible.

He freezes, "W-what?"

I scoot back to lean over him, "Did you dry your face after showering?"

Jack furrows his brow in confusion, "Uh, yeah?" His baby blues grow over his pupils. There's that feeling again. Has it been that long since I've had a friend I could joke around with like this?

I playfully push him down on the couch and giggle like an idiot, "You've rubbed Mark's dick on your face!" I laugh and bounce on my knees.

Jack shifts his body slightly and gives an awkward laugh, "'Ya jealous?" He swiftly winks and shifts around again.

Hair falls in my face and I press down on his chest again. "So what if I am? You like dick getting rubbed on your face!" Sweat starts to form on my thighs. Holy crap this couch is bouncy. He squirms a bit underneath me. "Dude, why do you keep doing that?" The Irishman's skin bursts into a deep crimson. Damn. Did I say something wrong? 

"N-nothing," Jack adverts his eyes away. This is a new sight, I've never seen him embarrassed before. 

I lift myself off of him and slightly raise my hand forward in concern. "Did-did I do something wrong? I can go back to my place if you want," Any cockiness in my body is gone.

"It's fine! Y-ya didn't do anything wrong!" His voice shakes a bit, his accent growing thicker, but it still reflects his usual cheery mood. The couch emits a small creak as Jack is no longer laying on his back, but instead leaning with his back against the couch's arm. I scoot away from him, just in case I'm making him uncomfortable. I quickly glance over him, he seems like he's okay. He's wearing his usual hoodie, and a pair of casual jeans-.

Oh.

My eyes betray me when I tell them to stop looking. I can't blame them. I don't want to stop looking at it.

"D-don't look at it!" Jack covers his pelvic area with his arms. The baby blues shift around his eyes. He quickly gets up and run-walks to the bathroom.

I sit up on my knees and run to the door. My heart is acting like a paint shaker. Dammit. "Jack, please come out, it's my fault. I'm sorry." No reply. "Dammit!" My word falters and everything becomes a whisper to myself. "Nice going, Y/N! You messed it up like you always do. You stupid stupid stupid stupid fetus. I'm a fucking fetus oh my God." The last sentence comes out louder than expected.

"Did you just call yourself a fetus?" 

I freeze. Mark. Shit. He can't know about this. This whole incident was just an awkward friend moment. Yeah. It was just... an affection erection. I turn to Mark, my cheeks hotter than ever, "Y-yeah! I accidentally spilled my water on Jack!" Wait, water. Light bulb! I swear, this better not be one of those stupid myths. "S-sorry again dude! Wet clothes are a pain, especially when they're doused in _cold_ water, huh?"

There's a short silence from the other side of the door.

"Yeah! Don't sweat it, I'm okay!" It's amazing how cheery he can get in a minute.

Mark hums quietly while shifting his weight. "Anyways, thanks for letting me use your shower."

"No problem!" My heart jumps around in my chest, this day has been too much. Way too much.

 

It's roughly twenty minutes after I left Mark's apartment and returned to my own. I roll up on the couch with my laptop. My phone vibrates.

[Jack: Dick towel.]

[Y/N: Woody.]

[Jack: Fair enough.]

[Jack: You're not planning on telling Mark about it, are you?]

[Y/N: Mr. McLoughlin, I hope you're not implying that I'm a whistleblower!]

[Y/N: And no, I wouldn't do that.]

The phone vibrates again, I smile in anticipation for Jack's cocky reply -- but that doesn't happen.

 

[Mark: Are you busy tonight?]


End file.
